Closed Door
by Claire M C
Summary: A knock on the door in the middle of the night can change everything...Ensemble fic, mainly BuffySpike friendship fic dark in places
1. Chapter 1

**Title: _Closed Door_ **

**Status**: Work In Progress  
**Category**: AU Hurt, Angst, Torture, Character Deaths, and all those other dark themes :)  
**Pairings**: Nothing concrete at present, but may change.  
**Rating**: PG-13 to R for dark themes and possible occasional bad language.  
**Spoilers**: Season Seven of Buffy and Season Five of Angel to be safe.  
**Season/Sequel**: Post Season Seven Buffy, AU Season Five Angel  
**Summary**: A knock on the door in the middle of the night can change everything.  
**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of Joss Whedon, Warner Brothers, UPN . This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.  
**Author's Notes**: This is a dark fic set after the end of Buffy. It takes a bit of a swing into the AU during the middle of Season Five of Angel. So, if you're into fluffy fic (which we all are now and again J ) this probably isn't the one you want to read!

* * *

It was one of those nights, the clichéd kind. The sky was dark and overpowering, the air hung heavy all around and the fat drops of rain fell, nothing escaping them while thunder roared menacingly in the distance.

The shadows crawled across the floor as the lights flickered before the occupants of the house were plunged into darkness.

Buffy closed her eyes. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been afraid of the dark. It was her friend, her comfort and her companion throughout life, walking by her side. She could hear the muffled sounds of Giles fumbling his way from the library and the creaking of the stairs as Dawn's high-pitched voice spoke down to him.

He spent all of his time in there now. He didn't even bother coming out for meals, Dawn brought them in to him.

She had no inclination to see him, nor he her.

Perhaps it was better this way, she mused attempting to relax. They'd both said too much and done too much to ever go back to that easy friendship they had, that almost father-daughter tie between them. It pained her to look at him now, so why bother to seek it out?

He still had Dawn, who even now had that bond with him. She looked up to him as the role model, the father figure in her life, and Buffy wasn't sure if that was such a good thing or not.

But she tried to ignore her doubts every day. Giles and Dawn talked, and looked after each other.

Dawn still had that hope that Giles desperately needed to cling on to.

Something she had lost a long time ago.

She covered her ears with her pillow, trying to block them out. She didn't want to hear anything they said, all she wanted was to immerse herself in the soothing comfort of the encompassing blackness, and sounds of nature outside the windows.

Soon the darkness would be here to stay. Forever.

She knew it, they knew it.

It was just a matter of waiting.

Her eyes snapped open at a loud pounding on the front door. She stilled when it stopped wondering if she'd just imagined it until it started again, only this time louder and more insistent until it drowned out even the sound of the thunder outside.

She got up resignedly pulling on a robe, and tying it loosely opened the door a crack seeing the flickering of Dawn's candle illuminate the large expanse of the wall opposite the stairs.

Dawn spun around, her eyes wide as she took the stairs two at a time racing towards her sister's room and slipping to a halt as she almost ran into her at the top of the stairs.

"Buffy," she hissed looking back over her shoulder, excitement in her eyes, "I-it's, it's him, h-he's still alive."

Not replying Buffy stalked silently down the stairs, the old worn wood creaking in protest beneath her bare feet until she landed on the ground floor.

Giles' words died on his lips as she approached, and looked up at a pair of angry, bloodshot eyes, familiar chiselled jaw, twisted mouth and badly bruised face.

He growled at her and she blinked twice before a movement behind him caught her gaze. At closer inspection she saw a wild eyed woman, her hair cut short and jagged as if she'd just taken a pair of scissors and cut it without the aid of a mirror, or a sane mind. The woman looked all around her, twisting what was left of her hair around her fingers and babbling words Buffy couldn't make out.

She frowned and looked back up at him, blue eyes clashing with brown.

"There's rooms upstairs, use whatever free ones you want."

She turned and walked away but he grabbed her elbow and swung her around.

"That it, slayer?" he asked angrily through clenched teeth.

She looked from him to the girl, to Giles and Dawn before looking back at him again.

"Yes," she said simply, turning and walking up the stairs, the glow of light dying and the blessed darkness welcoming her as she entered her room and closed the door behind her.

She allowed herself a moment of weakness as she slumped against the cool wood of her bedroom door. She shook herself out of it soon enough and crawled back into bed, ignoring the voices clamouring to be heard in the back of her mind, and willed her body to fall to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Notes:_** I'm really sorry I didn't update this sooner. I meant to update it every week, but work has just been so crazy lately, I haven't had the time I'd like to write properly. I'm aiming to update it fortnightly, just to be on the safe side J

Thank you for all the reviews, I really do appreciate them. I know the story's a bit confusing now, but hopefully as it will be less confusing with the coming chapters.

In particular to **vanillagigglez:** I never bought into the whole Spuffy thing. There may be a few Spike/Buffy moments (there's one in this chapter that would probably be considered a bit Spuffy), but nothing really romantic or anything like that. I don't believe Buffy & Spike were ever 'meant to be,' and I think they knew that as well.

Anyhow, I think that's it. Enough of my ramblings and on with the story. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Cold.

It's the first thing that made its way through the fog of her sleep muddled mind. She snuggled beneath the blankets of her bed, wrapping the covers more securely around her as she nuzzled her face even closer between the sheets and the pillows.

Yet still, she shivered faintly, and she opened her eyes in annoyance. It was never this cold in Sunnydale. The thought sent a pang through her as she remembered her old home.

How times had changed from the days she'd argued with sister over clothes and rolled her eyes every time her mother told her to put on a sweater.

Stopping herself before her thought turned too maudlin of days long gone, she jumped out of bed and stepped lightly and swiftly across the cool wooden floor towards the wardrobes. Picking the first thing that came to hand; she quickly dressed and opened the curtains.

It was a grey morning, the clouds were still heavy and purple grey in colour. The fields that blanketed the land around the house seemed darker, and even the pair of horses Giles kept appeared panicky and coiled, as if ready to race as soon as any danger headed their way.

Frowning, she turned away and tied up her long brown hair. Her thoughts immediately sprang to their unexpected visitors the previous night.

They had all assumed Spike was dead. It was a natural assumption really, considering what was happening in the States at the moment.

She had been so excited when Giles had opened the door and there he'd stood. Panting, and dripping wet from the rain, but alive. Very much alive. If only her sister could have been as excited.

Determined not to fall into the depressing Buffy thoughts for the moment she sprang down the stairs and into the kitchen where she found their platinum vampire.

"Hey," she smiled sliding into the seat beside him and relieving him of a slice of toast.

He greeted her with a grunt and a glare.

"So," she began conversationally, "how did you get here?"

He snorted, not looking up from his breakfast, "no small talk, then?"

Dawn shrugged and waited for him to continue speaking.

"Well, it wasn't easy, love, that's for sure."

"We thought you were dead."

"You weren't the only one," he muttered darkly.

"There's no contact with the States anymore, and all borders are supposed to be sealed off."

"Tell me about it. You have any idea how long it took me to get to the Canadian border? Yeah, that's right, Canada with their bloody huskies and those damnable Mounties. No point even attempting to get across the Mexican boarder, it's like Fort Knox."

Dawn rolled her eyes, and looked towards his companion from the previous night whose eyes were bright and was scribbling madly on sheets of paper strewn around her like designer tiles, "what's her story?"

"Fred?" he lifted his eyes to the physicist, who looked back at him at the sound of her name for the briefest of seconds before continuing with her writings.

"Tell you the truth, pet, I'm not entirely sure. Last I heard they had her, don't see her for months, assumed she was dead. Next thing I know, she's shouting after me down the street, babbling about knights and evil lords, God knows what else."

Dawn's eyes widened, "she- she was taken by them a-and she escaped?" her gaze travelled to the former scientist, who was still intensely focused on the pages before her.

"Look what it did to her though. Mad as a bleeding hatter. Still, sometimes…" his voice trailed off and Dawn turned to him questioningly.

"What?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "sometimes I think she's trying to tell me something. Like she knows something important, she just can't quite say it."

"You think?" she asked eagerly, her eyes widened in wonder and the possibilities flashing before her mind.

"Dunno. Maybe I'm imagining things."

"I-if there's a chance Fred could be useful, that she could somehow help us-"

"Hold your horses there, Calamity. Never said she could help us turn the tide."

"No, but it's a start," her eyes shone brightly, "I mean, if i _you're_ /i still alive, then maybe…maybe Angel's st-"

"Angel's dead, Dawn."

Dawn twisted in her chair to see her sister enter the room, her face as cool as marble, her eyes like ice.

She walked towards the sink, staring out of the window at nothing in particular.

"Your sister's right, li'l bit," Spike added, "the Eternal Misery is no more. Least we don't have to listen to his whinging any more."

"B-but if Spike and Fred can-"

Buffy whirled around, the cool face of a moment ago, lost in eyes that burned like fire.

"I said, Angel is dead, Dawn. Deal with it," she enunciated each word so precisely, and with such heat, even Fred stopped her scribblings for a few seconds to look at her, with just a hint of fear in her face.

Dawn sprang up from her seat and raced through the door, Spike looking after her. He turned and frowned at Buffy's now turned back.

"Was that really necessary?"

"She needs to learn."

The chair scrapped along the tiled floor as Spike got up and walked towards her, "learn what exactly?"

"That we're not always going to have a happy ending. She," she shook her head gathering her thoughts again, "she keeps expecting some magical solution to all of this. Like someone's just going to show up with the answer to end everything that's happened, something that can make the world into the perfect place. Giles only encourages her."

She rubbed her forehead vigorously, and started when she felt his hand rest on her shoulder, "there's nothing wrong with having hope, Buffy."

She looked at him and started laughing, almost hysterically, " i _hope_ /i ? Spike, you should know better than anyone that we're beyond that. You've seen what's happened in the States, it's practically overrun with demons and vampires. It's i _illegal_ /i to have any dealings with anyone in America. You can be arrested for making a phone call to someone within US boarders."

"It's America, pet, it's not the entire world. There are still billions of people out there that need you, you can't give up."

Buffy walked away from him to the other side of the room, her arms crossed, gripping her sides tightly.

Fred didn't even spare them another glance, lost as she was in a world of her own making.

"When we used the scythe in Sunnydale," Buffy began, then hesitated for a moment, and looked anywhere but at him, "we gave the power of the slayer to every potential throughout the world."

"I know that, slayer. I was there, remember?"

She shot him a withering look, "it may have worked for the battle in Sunnydale, but we didn't think beyond that. We never even considered what could happen to them. There's slayer's out there, mere girls, who are targets now for every low life demon that comes along!"

Spike watched her intently, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

"There's no Watcher's Council anymore, Spike," she continued quietly. "There's nobody to look out for them. And, funnily enough, all the vampires and demons aren't saying, 'Hey, they're only children, let's wait a while until they grow up a bit and can defend themselves a bit better.' That's not how they work, Spike. We both know that."

Her eyes were bright, and she angrily brushed at them with the sleeve of her shirt.

"Buffy," his voice was like a caress as he stepped closer and cupped her cheek, using the pad of his thumb to brush away a stray tear that had escaped.

"They used to send them to me," she told him, her voice returning to the hardness that had become her natural tone of voice.

"What?" he asked confused.

"Their bodies," she wetted her lips briefly and looked towards the window again, "that's why we left. Dawn doesn't know, and I don't want her to," she added looking back towards him fiercely.

He stood back, lifting both his hands in the air, "won't breathe a word, Summers, promise."

She nodded jerkily, "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too."

Buffy got distracted by something over his shoulder, and he turned to see Rupert Giles, former watcher and eternal tight arse, staring at them disapprovingly.

"Am I…interrupting, anything?" he asked, his voice dripping with censure.

"Well, actually," Spike started.

"Of course not," Buffy cut in icily, "I'm going to go find, Dawn."

She left the room, and they spent a few minutes staring at each other. Giles was the first to break the silence.

"I'd like to think you didn't come here just to cause trouble, Spike."

Spike snorted in response, "tell you what I didn't come here for, and that's to hear your self-righteous twaddle. So, how about you just leave it out then, hmm?" he replied, eyes darkening dangerously as he brushed by him.

He grabbed his duster and put it on.

"Where are you going?" Giles asked impatiently.

"Out, Dad. Don't worry I'll be back before my curfew. Keep an eye on Fred for me," he yelled over his shoulder, letting the door slam closed behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

The brisk morning air brushed coldly against her cheek, which blossomed a faint pink in response. Wrapping the warm woollen coat more securely around her, she made her way down the gravel path towards the large field at the back of the house.

As expected, she found her sister lightly stroking the nose of the dark brown stallion. He neighed in response to seeing the blonde woman and as she approached, the other dappled grey horse pushed his nose insistently against her side in search of some treats. With a faint smile, Buffy obliged them both and produced two apple halves, which they greedily devoured.

Dawn had yet to look directly at her sister, and Buffy could feel the anger radiating off the brunette in waves towards her. Knowing she had to be the one to make the first move, Buffy laid her hand on her sister's upper arm and squeezed gently.

"Dawn, I'm sorry. I never meant to snap like that."

Dawn ignored her and moved her face closer to the dark horse, murmuring something unintelligible to it. Frustration and impatience played across Buffy's face as she grabbed her sister a little more firmly and pulled her around to force her to look at her.

"Dawn, listen to me. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to talk to you like that, I-"

"Of course you didn't mean it, you never do, do you?" Dawn's blue eyes darkened in anger, and she yanked her arm away from her sister and stepped back away from her.

"What is it you want from me, Buffy? Do you want me to tell you it's okay, that I forgive you? Like everyone else always does, because, hey, you're the slayer and live with _so much_ responsibility, and have _so much_ to do?" her face contorted into a sneer as she looked her sister up and down with faintly concealed disgust.

"Dawn, please, don't do this," Buffy asked her, her own emotions simmering behind her veiled eyes.

"Do what, Buffy? Tell you the truth? After Sunnydale, I thought you'd be happy, you'd finally get the uncomplicated life you always wanted, but I was wrong." She stepped closer to her sister, her taller height making her look quite intimidating as she looked down on the older slayer. "Do you know what I think it is Buffy? I think it might have something to do with the fact that you're not the centre of attention anymore. We didn't need you to tell us what to do anymore."

"Dawn, that's not true!" Buffy protested furiously, her eyes sparkling with restrained anger.

"Yes, it is! Look at you! You spend you days moping around, doing nothing but staring out windows and ignoring the fact that there's danger out there that we need you for. We actually _need_ you Buffy, and all you do is spend your time walking around telling us all how hopeless and pointless it is to fight! It's almost as if you're punishing us for not being your slaves when there was no danger!"

As Dawn's anger dissipated, Buffy's erupted explosively.

"How dare you! You know that's not true. I did everything I could, _everything_ I could to stop what happened in the States." She shook her head tiredly and sighed as she focused on her younger sister, "I'm not punishing you, I'm being realistic, which is not something anybody could accuse you and Giles of being."

Stung, Dawn stepped back and away from her sister. Frustrated, Buffy held out an arm pleadingly to her sister.

"Dawn, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean that the way it sounded," she sighed, and looked down at the worn grass, shaking her head. "We have to stop this. The constant fighting and bickering, it's driving me insane."

"I know," Dawn admitted, a shaky sigh emitting from her, "I just, I just don't get it Buffy. I don't understand why you've given up."

"I haven't given up, Dawn, I've just realised that I _can't_ save the world on my own."

"But you're not alone, you have us," Dawn said, her expressive eyes shining brightly as she moved forward and grasped her sister's hand tightly. Smiling faintly, Buffy squeezed her sister's hand.

"I know, Dawnie, but…I'm tired, and to be honest, I don't think there's a whole lot we can do."

"But we can try, can't we?"

Buffy hesitated for a moment, but seeing her sister's pleading expression was her undoing, "yes, we can try."

Dawn moved forward, embracing her warmly, "I knew you wouldn't give up, not really!"

Buffy held her closely and closed her eyes as she clung to her younger sister. "I'll do my best, Dawn, I promise."

* * *

Papers were scattered all around the kitchen floor, while their author continued to furiously work strange images and long entangled formulas over the sheaves of paper. Giles picked up one crude, but graphic image, of a vampire holding a human heart while his victim was tied up before him head hung, and blood running down his chest. 

Instantly, he was aware of her intense gaze focused on him and he cleared his throat as he placed the sheet back where it was, her eyes following the sheet's movement.

"Oh, well, yes," he said uncomfortably, smiling at her, "very…detailed, Winifred. Um, very interesting pictures. You, you just work away and I'll be over on the other side of the room, near the door."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and followed his movements with her penetrating gaze.

His foot slipped, and he frowned as he looked down at a forgotten sheet of paper lying strewn on the tiled floor. He picked it up, expecting to be equally disturbed as he had been with the previous images. His heart stopped for a beat, and he grip tightened on the paper, crumpling the edges. She'd never win any prizes for her artistic ability, but even he would recognise the figure in the picture. It was badly drawn, but the dark hair and glasses made him instantly recognisable. Splotches of red marred the drawing in several areas, his groin, his left breast, a jagged line down his chest, and a large red blob where he eye should have been.

Before he had time to take in the picture, it was snatched from his hands. Fred looked angrily at him, her eyes bright and feral. She smooth the edges of the paper, before a whimper escaped from her lips, and in a frenzy ripped the paper into as small pieces as she could manage. She cried and yelled, her sobs wracking her small frame, and she fell to the ground a quivering mess.

Giles tentatively knelt down beside her and lightly stroked her shoulder. She jerked back and scuttled across the floor away from his touch, her eyes wary and red rimmed. His gaze was full of compassion and he whispered to her, "my dear girl, what horrors have you seen?"

She ignored him, and the brief moment of humanity she had let him glimpse at, fell away as she once again became distracted with her morning's activities. He watched her, careful not to make any sudden moves so as not to frighten her until her gaze eventually fell once again to a sheet of paper before her, and dismissed him as not worthy of her concern.

Her brow furrowed in concentration, a few wrinkles on her forehead appeared as she scribbled wildly on the reams of paper and threw them around the place. He watched her fascinated, how quickly her hand moved across the pages, how swiftly she had written phrases and formulas. True, he didn't know if said formulas were of any us or even real, but she looked impressive composing them.

He followed the strewn sheets of paper lying carelessly around the small room and wondered, if perhaps, Fred might hold the secret miracle they'd all been praying for.


End file.
